


Say Something

by beforeyouspeak



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforeyouspeak/pseuds/beforeyouspeak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Andy tries to leave her in Paris, Miranda makes a different decision. Can they navigate their way through the complications of their lives and find a way together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by A Great Big World’s song Say Something. It will be a female/female pairing of Miranda and Andy. If this isn’t your thing, I apologize in advance.
> 
> A few disclaimers: The first is to say, please if you have issue with me or what I have written, come to me. I am quite reasonable and accommodating. I hope to help foster a sense of community and creativity in the fandoms in which I participate. Second is that, this story will become an on going work. I generally try not to balance more than a handful of works at a time. But I am willing to see where this will take me. Third, I’ve retained the original name because I like it and I connect to it emotionally (and I find titles really difficult).
> 
> And as always, Uniquely Named, thank you for seeing me through the storms. You are a fabulous beta. (And friend.)
> 
> Any mistakes that remain are my own.

Surrounded by paparazzi on marble steps in Paris, Miranda Priestly was acutely aware that her life was littered with important choices. Soft spoken well chosen words were the weapons in her arsenal. Her rise and maintenance of power had many casualties, often by her own hand. Nigel would now, unfortunately, be added to that list. She would, however, take care of him in the end. It wouldn’t be at James Holt, but it would be no less desirable. He knew her well enough to know to wait patiently. As harsh as she was, among her staff there was little doubt that she took care of those talented and loyal to her.

Her damage to others was second only to the trauma she inflicted on herself. Her words to the silly girl in the car were her latest form of self flagellation. As she always did when she was cornered, she sought out the girl’s weakest point and attacked with precision. The air had shifted immediately, but while still in the vehicle she hadn’t realized the gravity of her mistake. The sweet silly girl who had treated her with such respect and support just a few hours ago when that god awful fax came through. Who chased after her in the streets of Paris to warn her about a plot to dethrone her. Andrea alone had such deep compassion for the guarded steely editor.

What Miranda had not calculated, in her misguided attempt to separate herself emotionally from the beautiful creature who had been sneaking nightly into her dreams, was that she would be utterly lost the moment Andrea turned to walk away.

Love was a funny thing, and not one Miranda was intimately acquainted with. She knew affection, lust, parental love for her children. But romantic love evaded her for the whole of her adult life, in no small part due to her own choices. She nearly fell up the first marble step leading her into the next fashion show. It wasn’t her shoes or the weather that caused the near disaster. It was the soul shaking shock that she was in love with the woman walking away from her. As she regained her footing, she desperately searched for when such a thing could have happened. There wasn’t a single blinding moment, but a slow gradual descent into everything thing that was Andrea Sachs.

Unsure of what her first step should be after such a revelation, she hit #2 on her speed dial calling the only person she knew who could fix such a situation. She watched in horror as the young woman walking slowly away, who looked as though she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, gazed down at the ringing phone. Miranda’s breath caught in the moment she thought the phone would be lifted and she would be able to hear that familiar and soothing voice. Instead, the woman paused at the fountain and sadly dropped the phone in the water as though it was some sort of benediction.

She could not believe that Andrea didn’t answer her call, no matter how cruel her words may have been. It simply wasn’t like her. The woman had become her rock in a world that was out of control. It seemed as though she had finally found the limits of the most remarkable person she had ever worked with. She could stomach if the young woman no longer wished to work as her assistant. In truth in eight short months she had already outgrown the position. But she could not even contemplate the woman leaving her altogether. Her soon to be ex-husband could leave all he liked, but not Andrea. Not her Andrea.

In a moment utterly unlike the “Dragon Lady,” she turned to go after the young woman. Her heart and Andrea would accept nothing less than decisive corrective action. After all if she could destroy, could she not also build? She barked at the one escort who attempted to stop her, demanding that he have the show delayed 10 minutes and to ensure her two seats were still available. She dodged quickly through traffic and after Andrea feeling like the young woman who had left London all those long years ago. She was winded when she reached her, grateful that the mournful pace kept the young woman from getting far in the 90 seconds it had taken for Miranda to choose a new course. Gently she reached out to touch a bare elbow. At the contact Andrea turned swiftly, nearly colliding with the editor.

“Miranda? What are you doing,” she asked equal parts curious and mortified.

“I’m stopping us both from making the biggest mistakes of our lives.” The young woman visibly bristled at the comment and began to open her mouth. Swiftly Miranda pressed a finger gently against the soft lips. “Let me finish. You may leave Runway. But… please do not leave me. I’ve made many errors and made more than a few enemies in my tenure. But letting you leave when you are the only one who truly knows me and cares for me anyways would be the worst I’ve ever done. Please, Andrea.”

She watched with bated breath as the dark brown eyes searched her for the honesty in her statements. Miranda did her best to lower her defences. She wanted Andrea to see the reasons behind her words without speaking them aloud just yet. It was too soon, no matter how strongly she felt. And for once in her life she wanted to build a relationship properly. One that might last. When the soft lips pressed actively against the pad of her finger, she couldn’t resist allowing her eyes to flutter closed. The mostly innocent touch was beyond what she had ever experienced.

“I won’t leave you. You only had to ask me to stay. I am sorry if that was ever unclear.” The soft unwavering tone made plain the deep underlying fondness.

Miranda didn’t miss the opportunity to affectionately cup the soft cheek, even though she was acutely aware of their rather public location. Fortunately the photographers were kept busy by the other arrivals at the show.

“Come back to the show with me, Andrea. Then we will have dinner and arrange everything else. We will make whatever changes you deem necessary.”

“What is it that you want in return, Miranda,” the young woman asked quietly.

“An opportunity for a beginning.”

Andrea smiled in response stepping beside the silver headed editor.

The trip back to the staircase seemed infinitely shorter than that which preceded it. As they neared the crowd of reporters again, the young woman dropped back a step into her place as a faithful assistant. At the motion Miranda paused momentarily and turned to look back at her. She kept her face firm in spite of the twinkle in her eyes.

“Call the Paris office. You will need a new phone by this evening. No longer than that. And Andrea. Put on your sun glasses. Never let them see you sweat. That’s all.”

Andrea took the offered phone and slipped it seamlessly into her pocket. She suppressed the urge to smile. Who knew there was such humor lurking beneath the stoney surface. She had hoped that there was more than meets the eye. It would have been deeply disappointing for a woman so mysterious to have no depth. Predictably, Miranda showed just enough that Andy couldn’t help but be intrigued. And that finger on her lips. If Andy had been lost in anger and regret the moment before, with that action she was drowning in Miranda. There was no other answer aside from yes to that intimate touch.

The single digit wasn’t enough to wipe away the anger burning in her gut. But she was wise enough to realize that it wasn’t all on Miranda. She was reeling from all of the changes in her personal life. She wasn’t the same girl she was 6 months ago, but then again who was entirely grown up when they graduated from college. From her long talks with Nigel, it was crystal clear that she was still growing both as a person and a professional. And as much as it made her sad that Nate didn’t approve, she liked who she was becoming. She still had to perfect balancing compassion with her ambition, but for now she was pleased with being a work in progress.

And so she had let him go. Though it wasn’t the only reason. He was right when he said that she was in a relationship with the person whose calls she took. Since she has earned that first approving look from Miranda, all she could think about was getting another. Being the assistant to the editor of Runway may not have been her dream job, but she wanted to be the very best. She allowed the sharp tongued woman to invade every vestige of her life, and though there was plenty of pain there were glimmers of something more.

Even now walking in her wake into yet another fashion show, it was all Andy could do to fight back the pain. She hurt so badly for Nigel and his dreams. She couldn’t stomach the idea of being put in the same position. But neither could she imagine Miranda without Runway, or vise versa. If the woman hadn’t come after her, she had no doubt that she would be on her way to the airport without a thought of the consequences. She needed something more than a pithy speech sneered in the back of a chauffeured car. She hoped there was more. For the time being she was willing to live on it.

Much to her surprise when they reached the catwalk, there were two empty front row seats waiting for them. Checking her watch, she realized the entire show had been held because of her detour across the street. As they settled into their chairs, Miranda smirked knowingly. Just when she thought the woman could not surprise her more, she had bumped someone important from the front row so they would be seated side by side.

“Your notepad, Andrea. You are here on on the auspice that you are taking directions from me, which doesn’t sound like a bad idea. However, I am keeping an eye on you. I can’t have you running off again. Now focus,” Miranda whispered directly into her ear. Out of the corner of the eye, she saw the somewhat glazed look in the young woman’s eyes and how she fumbled with the small book and pen. To the rest of the world, she would look nervous, possibly terrified. For now, that would do. There were many things that would need to be addressed before either of them would be ready for the rest of the world to know exactly how much just the tone of her voice affected the young woman.


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting next to Miranda during the show was thrilling. By halfway through, Andy was convinced she was being punished. The silver haired woman was well known for her preference for personal space. No one dared sit next to her on a plane or rode an elevator with her. Her assistant long ago chalked it up to some sort of phobia or anxiety, but she was now rather certain that was not the case. The gentle touches to her knee or arm wouldn't have phased her from anyone else. She was slowly being driven to distraction. She could no longer watch for the complex Miranda code, as she had begun to think of the nods, smiles, and pursing of lips. It was all she could manage to furiously write the notes being dictated to her in breathy intimate tones and actually watch the show in order to be able to remember what Miranda meant by "that purple dress I liked." As she struggled to regulate her own breathing in response to the closeness, she realized that she would remember nothing from the afternoon aside from the gentle touches and wafts of the woman's expensive perfume. But she wasn't sure that she cared.

Just as she was certain she finally managed to school her features, manicured nails dragged over her knee. She glanced out of the corner of her eye to catch a small victorious smirk.

"Do try to pay attention, Andrea," the editor practically purred in her ear.

The brunette tensed and held her breath willing herself not to react. She was aware that especially during fashion week all eyes would be on the woman sitting next to her. She had spent years being the clumsy girl. There was simply no need to draw additional attention to herself when it could be avoided. Nor did she want to prematurely end whatever magical thing seemed to be going on between herself and the editor today.

Her attraction to her beautiful boss had been creeping up on her for some time. At first, she tried not to like the woman, though she had always been intrigued. It was after Nigel gave her a makeover that she truly started to understand Miranda Priestley’s world. And it was truly her world. As the weight of the woman’s responsibilities became more apparent, Andy strove to anticipate and meet needs before orders were issued. The first time she succeeded it had earned her a suspicious look, as though she had dared to enter that brilliant mind without permission. But over the past couple of months, they’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Outwardly Miranda had been no nicer to her or anyone else, but there had been a few occasions when those crystal blue eyes betrayed something more. It was so fleeting that Andy hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on it, though she couldn’t even hide from herself that she strove tirelessly to earn more.

And then there was that fight with Nate. Things had been slowly deteriorating with him since she began working at Runway. He had liked who she was in college, but seemed utterly disinterested in her growth beyond that. She felt as though she ought to be more distraught over his departure. But all she felt was relief. She would no longer have to hide her devotion to her job and the resulting exhaustion. She would have to decide what to do about the apartment, but that was for when she returned from Paris. Based on the brief conversation earlier, there would likely be changes to her life anyways.

The show finally ended and the crowd rose to their feet, except Miranda. Her lack of reaction had nothing to do with how much she liked the designer. Especially in the fall, she kept her preferences as quiet as possible so that other editors wouldn’t be able to take cues from her. The show had been solid, exactly what she had expected after having seen a preview the month before. Thankfully the designer hadn’t tried to pull any big changes on her. They always seemed to think they could pleasantly surprise her and she hated it. Sitting so close to Andrea had been exquisite torture. It was a practical indulgence. She was quite serious when she said she was keeping an eye on the young woman. Really she was unlikely to let her out of her sight for many days to come. It was clear that her presence was mandatory in Miranda’s life.

It was fortunate that the editor had the excuse of the show to sit closely and plan her next move. The silver haired woman prided herself on her decisiveness and ability to strategize on the fly. She would need to make some big changes in order to keep the people in her life where she wanted them. She was delighted as it all fell into place in her mind. That was when she gently ran her nails over the woman’s knee. Andrea did a commendable job of hiding her reaction from others, but Miranda knew. Miranda always knew. Since the day the haughty journalist strode into her inner sanctum, not even knowing her name, Miranda silently observed her. As a rule she liked to know her employee’s strengths and weaknesses. She realized that her appraisal of the young woman had gone far beyond what was normal even for her, but she had faith the effort would yield desirable results.

As the quite frankly over the top praise for the designer died down, Miranda gracefully rose to her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Andrea mirror her actions. The editor would have to stay a few minutes to exchange pleasantries with a few important people. While she very much wanted to drag her second assistant away for a very private conversation, she would finish out the event as usual. She didn’t want any additional attention from outsiders, nor did she particularly want to scare the girl off. Her evidence seemed to indicate that attraction and possible infatuation were not a one sided affair, but the girl could obviously be incredibly skittish. So she would just have to approach her like a scared animal with firm but gentle actions. She was pleased that as she moved through the room, the entire time she could feel the young woman at her back. And if she wasn’t mistaken, Andrea was half a step closer than usual.

In her usual brisk manner, Miranda exited the show into her waiting car. She slid into the leather seats and quiet. She held her breath until the dark headed woman ducked in the other side looking appropriately sheepish before shyly looking up into her eyes.

“How long do I have before the Chanel party?”

Andrea fumbled slightly as though being pulled from deep thoughts. “It doesn’t start until 9. You are scheduled to be there from 10:00 until 10:30.”

“And what do I have before that?”

The second assistant mumbled under her breath.

“Really, Andrea. You must enunciate if I am to hear you. And I don’t care to spend my evening repeating myself.”

“I don’t remember the rest,” she said cowering. “My phone…”

“This is why we don’t drop electronics in water.” Miranda was pleasantly surprised when she got a heated look in return. “Well, when will you be able to tell me the details of my schedule?”

“I’ve been promised a new one with everything uploaded is already waiting in my room.”

“I suppose that will have to do. Now there are a number of things I want. I don’t care what is scheduled. They will simply have to be moved. I want dinner at the hotel. I believe their room service should be adequate. You will join me at 7. Order what I like. You know what I like. And tell Nigel I expect him to escort me to the party tonight as well. He should come to my suite at 9.”

“Of course, Miranda.” Andy wanted to say more, but the pensive look on the older woman’s face once again made her bite her tongue. She closed her notebook as it was clear the woman was done speaking and attempted to settle calmly into the seat until they arrived at the hotel. 

When the car finally came to a halt in front of their hotel, Miranda lowered her sunglasses momentarily. She slowly looked the young woman up and down. “7 o’clock, Andrea. Do not be late.”

With that the ever mysterious woman slipped out of the car and strode quickly inside.


	3. Chapter 3

Andy was grateful for the 2 hours she had before she needed to be back in Miranda’s suite. She felt doubly lucky that although her room was on the same hallway, it was at the far end. She hoped that there would be 90 minutes worth of cold water, because after an entire show of gentle touches and whispering in her ear every cell in her body was on fire. She flipped quickly through her notebook and miraculously her notes appeared to make sense. How she had managed that was a mystery. Closing the book again, she stripped down to step into the shower. She had contemplated cold water, but opted for quick instead. After all, she still had to arrange a schedule and chose something to wear. Just under 2 hours would be just barely enough time. She wrapped her hair and body in a towel to go in search of an outfit that would be good enough for the beautiful woman. Before she reached the closest a knock from her door distracted her. Without giving a second thought to her attire, she swung the door wide. She was met with a smirk before Nigel swept past her.

“I am not surprised you need to shower after that little display at the last show, Six.”

She didn’t respond, but cocked her head.

“Oh yes, I saw,” the art director continued. “But don’t worry. There aren’t many who would have really understood what was taking place. But then again, not everyone has been watching you two dance around each other for the last few months.”

Andy’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh don’t worry, Six. Uncle Nigel would never say a word.”

“Obviously. There is nothing to say,” she retorted quickly.

“Not yet. But there will be. Anyway, I was downstairs when this was delivered. I thought I would bring it up in person.”

He handed over a box containing her new cellphone. She snatched it gratefully and immediately began flipping to the calendar. He waited patiently as she fired off emails cancelling a handful of events. When she finally looked up at him again he smiled.

“So Six, I think we need to have a brief conversation. I understand that we will be speaking with Miranda before the party. I want to make sure that you and I are on the same page before then.”

Andy nodded sadly. She tensed and waited for the worst to happen.

“Relax, Andy. I need you to know that what happened today was business. If we are entirely honest with ourselves, we both know that Runway is nothing without Miranda. And do we not sacrifice daily to make her visions a reality? You must understand this is no different to me. Yes, I am disappointed. No, I don’t like how she did it. But the why of it all is quite understandable.”

The young woman nodded solemnly. “She came after me, Nigel.”

“Yes, I know.”

“She invited me to dinner.”

“She did.”

“She wants more.”

“She always has with you. At first it baffled me too, but over time it has become clear.”

“What has?”

“Oh now Six, you must discuss this with her. I simply came to say that you cannot let that one business transaction dictate how you act towards her. That must come from here.” He pointed gently at her heart. “Now.” He clapped his hands together in glee. “We ought to find you something to wear. Show me to the heaps of clothes designers have showered you with.”

Andy led him to the closet in a daze. First Miranda’s afternoon of strange actions and now Nigel was what… playing match maker? As he did every time he got around new couture, he lit up like a small child at Christmas.

“This, no question. This,” he said and held up an impressively small leather skirt. She took it skeptically. “And this should work as well.”

“Nigel, that's incredibly low cut,” she muttered hoping for mercy.

“Yes, so it is. I dare say you won’t be able to wear a bra. But never mind. Le Perla did also send you things, did they not?”

“You are not seriously thinking of picking out my underwear.”

“I most certainly am, Six. There will be nothing that is going to spoil this outfit. I will choose every piece. Now where is it.” He practically whined the end at her. She never could resist that tone of voice. He picked out very expensive scraps of lace that masqueraded as underwear garters and hose. “I think classic black Louboutins should do it.” He enjoyed the pleasant red color that painted her features. Someone had to give the near perfect assistant a hard time every once in a while. “Am I to trust that even in your current state you are capable of dressing yourself.”

“I can manage,” she snarked back reaching for the rest of her outfit. “I have been doing so for a while now.”

“Oh and we know how well that always worked in the past.”

“The dressing wasn’t the problem. The clothes selection was,” she admitted, batting her eyes at him.

“Well go on you. Get ready. I will see you in a few hours. After all I must get ready for a ball myself.” He winked and walked out of the room with a flare only he could achieve.

Andy stared at the door in disbelief. First the Devil in Prada chased her down a Parisian avenue and begged her to come back. And now she had a Fairy Godfather dressing her in scandalously little clothing for dinner with the most beautiful woman she had ever met.

* * *

 

She looked anxiously at her watch in front of the large wooden door of Miranda’s suite. She was 15 minutes early out of habit, but was entirely unsure if such patterns still applied to her current situation. Steeling her nerves, she took a deep breath and knocked. The door opened immediately to reveal an already dressed Miranda. The gorgeous deep cut classic gown stunned Andy and rooted her in place. It wasn’t until the older woman turned and walked away that the brunette realized she should probably move inside the room. She followed her boss across the room to where she was pouring drinks and attempted not to fidget. She froze entirely when she felt familiar blue eyes begin tracing up her body with antagonizing attention to detail. She knew she was turning pink from the look alone.

“If I had known you would look like this, I would have insisted they moved fashion week up several months.”

Andy blushed in earnest. While not a direct compliment, it was damn close to one. Miranda walked to her, wine in hand. The young woman took it with a nervous smile and allowed herself to be led out onto the balcony. What she found was breathtaking. There was a table for two set in the night air. Candles glowed over the covered plates waiting for them. In the distance the Eiffel tower shimmered.

“I wanted to show you the part of Paris I could in the time we have left on this trip,” Miranda said quietly. “But there can be other trips.”

Andy couldn’t formulate words, but smiled sweetly at the thought. The editor ushered her into her seat and lifted the covers on their appetizers. They ate in comfortable silence, savoring the time and night air. At the beginning of the second course, Miranda’s initial patience abandoned her.

“Andrea, I can practically hear the questions running through your pretty little head. Give them voice before we both go crazy.”

The brunette regarded her for a long moment before speaking. “Why?”

The older woman sighed deeply, preparing herself. “Simply put, I could not go on if you left. I realize that with your agreement not to leave, accommodations must be made. I trust you are aware to the lengths I will go to get what I want.”

“And what you want is for me not to leave?” Andy couldn’t believe the words coming out of her own mouth.

“That is where I shall begin, but that is certainly not all that I want.”

“I am very sorry, Miranda,” the young woman said with a furrowed brow, “but I am afraid that you are going to have to spell this out for me.”

“Very well.” The older woman paused knowing that she had reached yet another critical moment. There had already been far too many for just 24 hours. “I want you, Andrea. I want you to answer my calls on the first ring. I want to see you happy and see you succeed. I want you in my life and in my bed.” She spoke with the same conviction that she had lectured the girl about her blue sweater months ago. She watched the recognition register on the beautiful young face before fear set in.

“I’m sorry, Miranda. But I just can’t be an affair or some sort of toy. I should have left this afternoon. I am sorry to have wasted your time.” She stood to make an exit quick enough that the other woman wouldn’t be able to watch her tears. She was again thwarted by clever fingers closing around her arm.

“Andrea, please sit down. I don’t excel at elaborating, as you well know, but you must believe me when I say that you misunderstood me. And I would hope that you know me better than that.”

Andy opened her mouth to interrupt the speech, knowing that if it were to go on she would be unable to keep her composure.

“No, no. You will listen, Andrea. You must listen. I want more. I want something I’ve never really had before. Something real.”

“A relationship,” she choked out.

“Yes, you silly girl. I feel as though both my words and actions this afternoon have been quite clear.”

“As simple as that?” Andy couldn’t believe she was asking yet again another question. Clearly she had a death wish today. She was intent on testing the full extent of the woman’s patience, which was legendarily short.

“No,” Miranda breathed deeply. “No, I don’t imagine it will be simple, but most things worth doing are complicated. But none of this means anything if you do not feel the same way.”

The young woman looked at her incredulously. “You didn't ask why I tried to leave today.”

“Why ask what I already knew. I presume it is pertinent if you are bringing it up instead of telling me what I want to know.”

Andy took a moment to look into the clear blue eyes. It was a luxury to have this kind of privacy with the magnificent woman, and she would be daft not to take advantage of it. “I left because emotionally I cannot cope with the idea that someday you will cast me aside. There was a time when I would have survived. But over the past few months, we’ve become so in sync that you are nearly a part of me. So much that my romantic relationship died months ago, because what I had with him was a mere shadow of what I felt sitting in your outer office. So you must understand that I cannot enter into anything lightly. You could so easily destroy me.” She dropped her eyes for fear that she would be unable to hold back the tears that were threatening to run down her face.

“Then we are on equal footing,” the quietly commanding voice said. “My darling, I chased after an assistant in front of the press.”

“So then,” Andy attempted to process, “So not simple and not entered into lightly. And every night in your bed.”

“I do believe that is an apt summary.”

“And if I agree, you already have a plan?”

Blue eyes sparked in response. Miranda reached out slowly and wove her fingers through Andrea’s. She couldn’t help but to revel in the soft skin beneath her fingertips.

“I want you terribly, Andrea. I cannot imagine wanting anyone more.”


End file.
